


Support

by mysticmajestic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, shangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 23:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticmajestic/pseuds/mysticmajestic
Summary: When a panic attack hits Shiro out of the blue, Lance comes to the rescue.





	Support

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on Tumblr!](http://mystic-majestic.tumblr.com/)

Shiro doesn’t know what set him off this time.

He’s curled up in the corner of his room, knees drawn up to his chest so he can hide his face in his lap, arms wrapped protectively over his head.

Against the force of his own anxiety, he tries to keep his breath. But alongside what feels the last of his sanity, that’s stolen too. It won’t leave any bit of him intact. Every time he builds himself back up, he’s torn right back down again. A man with his trauma can never hope to stand so tall.

This has become his new normal.

But he cannot let the team see him fall apart like this. It’ll drag them down, leave them vulnerable. If they see that even their leader is prone to intense panic attacks, it might affect their morale. Might make them mess up in critical moments somehow, and that’ll get them injured or killed.

As their leader, he’s supposed to be strong, not…not weak. Not like this.

It’s as if there’s a hand squeezing around his lungs, forcing every bit of air from them. He wheezes and gasps, pressing a hand to his chest as he shoves himself further upright in his corner. Fuck it hurts. _Everything_ hurts.

Black spots swim alluringly in his vision, enticing him to lose consciousness—maybe for the final time. He wants to, yet he doesn’t want to. Die, that is.

Death would be a blessing at this point. A blessing he has not yet earned. There’s too much shit to do and too many people depending on him. He’s let a lot of people down in his lifetime; he can’t bear to add any more names to the list.

For how long is he expected to fight?

There’s a knock on the door, so loud and jarring that whatever air he’s forced into his lungs is jolted right back out of him. His despair is replaced by horror so profound and deep that the black spots encroach further into his vision.

_Not now, not now, please don’t—I can’t let anyone see me like this—_

“Shiro?”

Shiro would groan if he could. Of all people, _why Lance_? If there's anyone he doesn't want to see in this state, it's Lance. He can't bring Lance down with these issues, can't taint Lance's view of him. Shiro doesn't know what he'd do if the light in Lance's eyes meant only for him becomes tainted by pity or disgust. 

“Are you in there, Shiro?” _Knock, knock, knock_. “Shiro?”

“D-don’t,” he chokes out. “No—”

He tries to push himself up, but his arms failed him; he collapses to the ground again with a groan. A second attempt goes as well as the first. But he can’t just sit here and wait for his shame, his vulnerability, to be discovered.

On this third attempt to stand, he slips and smashes his elbow into the wall. He cries out in surprise and pain before can stop himself, agony lancing up his arm.

There’s a pause.

“Shiro, are you okay?” Lance asks urgently. “I’m—I’m coming in, alright?”

 _Hide, hide, hide!_ Shiro’s instincts scream at him. Black spots burst in his vision as the vice around his chest grows tighter. Where? Hide where? There is nothing in his room to hide under, save for the bed. Can he even fit underneath that thing?

The door slides open.

“Shiro!”

 _NO! No, don’t look, don’t look!_ Shiro shoves himself further into the wall, willing it to suck him inside of it. _Don’t, please, you can’t see me like this!_

“You’re okay, Shiro, you’re alright,” says Lance. He kneels in front of Shiro, hands hovering over him as he waits for permission to touch. “You’re having a panic attack right now.”

“No—no—”

“I’m here now; you’re going to be okay. Listen, I need you to take a deep breath, okay? You’re kinda hyperventilating on me, man.”

“I—I c-can’t—”

Lance shifts and Shiro freaks out, seizing him by the wrist to keep him there. He’s here now, he can’t just—he can’t just _leave_.

“Easy, easy.” Lance brushes the sweaty hair from Shiro’s face with his free hand as he works the other one from Shiro’s grip, only to lace their fingers together to bring Shiro’s hand up to his own chest. Shiro feels the faint yet rhythmic thrum of Lance’s heartbeat against his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry. You need to breathe, Shiro.”

Shiro shakes his head, and black spots burst into his vision. He can’t breathe. He can’t. It’s like trying to suck air through a straw. The vice around his lungs grows stronger with every passing second.

“How about you breathe with me, yeah?” Lance suggests. “When I breathe, you mimic me as best you can. Ready? Alright. Breathe in.” He sucks in a slow, deep breath, and Shiro tries his best to follow his lead. “Breathe out.”

They repeat the process for a good minute. Slowly but surely, the vice grip lessens and Shiro finds himself sucking in deep breaths gratefully, still feeling quite faint. But at least now he’s too tired to feel the bone-deep terror from before.

“Good,” says Lance, smiling. He squeezes Shiro’s hand. “You’re doing a great job, Shiro.”

It's amazing, Shiro thinks, as he looks up into Lance's bright blue eyes. There's none of the pity or disgust he'd been so frightened to see. The warmth, the love, is still there. Still as bright and untainted as before. Why Lance feels this way toward him, he'll never know, but he's so, so thankful for it. Cherishes and returns that love with every fibre of his being. 

He doesn't know how he ever managed to get on without Lance there, a bright, bubbly warmth by his side that makes the universe seem a little less terrible just from the power of his smile alone. 

Gradually, Shiro becomes aware of the fact that his backside has long since grown numb. His back aches from being hunched over for so long. The floor truly is uncomfortable, and now he’s aware of the pain it’s causing him, he can’t stay there.

“Need to move,” he mumbles.

“I gotcha,” says Lance. He stands and helps Shiro to his feet, supporting him as he hobbles awkwardly toward the bed. The mattress feels divine under Shiro’s aching body. “Do you want me to stay, or would you rather be alone?”

Shiro considers it for a moment, then beckons Lance into the bed, and Lance comes in gratefully. The bed isn’t made for two people so there’s a bit of awkward shuffling, but they make it work. There’s no way Shiro’s ready to be alone again, not when it caused him so much grief earlier.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” Lance asks. Then, spotting Shiro’s hesitant expression, he adds hastily, “Later, I mean. This episode was…really kinda bad, Shiro.”

“Maybe later,” says Shiro, comfortable in the knowledge that if later never comes, Lance won’t try to push him into talking about it anyway. Shifting onto his side, he cuddles up against Lance, who immediately wraps his arms around Shiro, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Shiro already feels marginally safer than before, more relaxed. “Just hold me for now, would you?”

“Of course, Shiro,” says Lance warmly, and his arms tighten around Shiro, stealing away the last of the tension from Shiro’s body. “I’ll hold you for however long you want. You know that.”

Indeed, Shiro does. And that’s why, minutes later, he falls into a deep sleep because he trusts that Lance will be there when he wakes up. Nothing bad will happen to Shiro whilst Lance is there.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


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